


In the Mourning (I Won't See You)

by everylosttouch



Series: Canon SH fics [3]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: 3x19 Coda, Alec POV, Episode: s03e19 Aku Cinta Kamu, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Alec, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Introspection, M/M, he's a mess, just alec pressing his nails into his palm a bit, like all of us, nothing graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 10:28:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18569557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everylosttouch/pseuds/everylosttouch
Summary: In the silence of the office, Alec’s sigh is loud. It’s empty, just like he feels.Or, Alec mourns.





	In the Mourning (I Won't See You)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this was partially inspired by my [string of tweets](https://twitter.com/the_biconic_mb/status/1120540927574065153) about how we didn’t get the scenes of Alec mourning/breaking down that we deserved to see. 
> 
> So I did us all a favor and wrote it :^)

He can’t concentrate.

He hasn’t been able to, not since he left Magnus alone in his mother’s new shop, not since the door slammed behind him, not since he dug his hands into his pockets and pressed his nails into his palms to try and relieve the horrid ache in his heart.

He couldn’t even _look_ at Magnus, couldn’t kiss him back because if he did, he wouldn’t be able to leave. Magnus would still be without magic. He’d still be miserable.

 _I’m not the first person he’s loved, and I won’t be the last. He can get past this._ Alec recalls the words he said to Izzy. He had said it to convince her, but also to convince himself. He tries to repeat it again in his head, tries to justify his actions to ease the ache but it doesn’t lighten up. It only grows, like a leech feeding on his soul. It just takes and takes and takes and leaves him completely and utterly deflated.

He can’t concentrate.

 _Even Jace knows_ , he thinks. Jace could feel something in the bond, could feel that Alec wasn’t okay. And he’s right—he isn’t, but he _can’t_ do this right now. Clary is gone. Jonathan is missing again. It’s chaos.

He has to concentrate.

But he _can’t_.

He tries and tries and _tries_ to concentrate, to keep his head in the game. But when Jace closes the door to his office, the silence thunders in his ears. It’s quiet, not even a crackle of wood from the fireplace. It’s cold—no fire ignited, no hope that tonight, he’ll slip into bed with the love of his life and—

_Fuck._

Alec sighs, bringing his hands to his face, rubbing harshly at his eyes, digging the heel of his hand into his browbone on just the right side of hurt. _God,_ he hates this. He hates how this feels, how this chasm in his chest only grows bigger; how the silence only reminds him that he no longer has Magnus, that his laugh, his smile, his eyes as they dilate when they kiss—they’re all gone.

He did this. He ended things.

Magnus can live without him. He’ll move on.

But that thought doesn’t satisfy him, it doesn’t make the pain go away. Somehow, it’s worse, it flares inside of him and just eats away at him. Magnus will move on. He’ll find another lover, one better than Alec.

And it’s with that thought that Alec breaks the suffocating silence in his office with a harsh sob.

He hasn’t cried since he begged Lorenzo to save Magnus’ life. In that moment, Magnus was near death, just a snap or flick of the wrist and he’d be gone. Alec couldn’t live without him, without the thought of Magnus being gone. He loved him so much and yet—

And yet—it had come to this.

He must live without Magnus so that Magnus can be happy, that he can have his magic, that he can feel whole.

_You won’t be his last love._

His hands shake as he lets out another garbled sob, breath shuddering harshly. His lip quivers. His tears are burning against his eyes. He’s pushing his hands against his face, clearing the tears and rubbing against the bone harshly. He threads his hands through his hair, pulling at the strands.

_You won’t be his last. He can live without you._

His knees give out under him, collapsing near the edge of his desk. He cries out, a pathetic whimper bubbling in his throat. His hands are shaking, moving as he opens up the drawer, pushing away the case for the Seelie rings until he feels the cold of metal. His breath is shaky as he brings the rounded metal casing from the drawer. It’s cold, having been hidden away once more after that night. It was a casing he had given warmth, smiles, memories of a future to; but now, its warmth had been stripped, abandoned.

Flicking open the top, he pushes it up to reveal the ring. The Lightwood ring, meant for Magnus, the one he wanted to propose with.

_You won’t be his last._

The casing makes a harsh, crisp snap as he closes it. Suddenly he can’t look at it anymore, can’t be reminded of how the future he thought he had was now gone forever.

_He can live without you._

The cold burns against his skin, and suddenly he’s quick to rid of it. He wants it out—away from him. He doesn’t look, squeezes his eyes shut and puts all of his might into his arm, swinging until he can hear the container shriek across the other side of the room, until he hears the clatter and rattle of the ring as it drops out of its confines and onto the hardwood floor.

He curls up, crying into his knees, letting out harsh sobs in the silence. His nails press into his palms again, but it’s not enough. He’s so heartbroken, so shattered and deflated all at once. He wants to feel something, _anything_ but this god-forsaken ache.

The sorrow turns bitter quickly, desperation and anger mixing together because he _can’t concentrate_ , can’t focus. He should be better than this. He’s the Head of the Institute. He has _obligations_ —

Before he can really think anything of it, he rises up, anger boiling in his bones. He lunges at his desk, angrily pushing away everything on the right side. The lamp goes; the bulb shatters. Papers scrape and fly. His picture of Magnus that sits on the corner falls. The frame cracks at the edges. There’s the sound of glass breaking.

He isn’t sure if it’s the picture or his heart.

There’s a pain in his hand, crescents forming in the skin of his palm as the silence deafens once more. The anger subsides then, rushing out like the papers to the floor, and suddenly he’s exhausted. He flops down into his chair, feeling everything and nothing. Hollow as can be. He looks up to the ceiling, daring to wonder where Magnus may be right now.

He closes his eyes and takes a breath.

_Concentrate._

_You have work to do._

And it’s with another long breath that he opens his eyes. He wills his body up, despite the weight of the decisions he’s made. He resists the urge to just stay and wallow. He can lose himself in work, focus on problems that will distract him from his own. They need to get Jonathan back, to assemble Glorious, and separate Jonathan and Clary.

There’s a knock on his door.

“Alec?”

It’s Izzy.

Alec pulls himself up, away from the desk, from the destruction of his office, from the ring that lies somewhere in the room. His heavy steps lead him to the door. He lays a hand on the knob, taking one more breath before opening the door.

The world needs him right now.

A world without Magnus Bane by his side.

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me over on twitter @the_biconic_mb  
> <3


End file.
